There's Nothing Wrong
by HofYecats
Summary: Dave Karofsky's brother sees something he's not supposed to see. Then he reacts in the way a Karofsky would. One-shot.


**A/N: Okay, look, I've kind of been in a writing funk as of late so I thought I'd force myself to write this in an attempt to get over it. It's just a one-shot (angsty drabble, really) told from the POV of Karofsky's imaginary little brother I created.**

**Enjoy.**

**If it's not that good, I apologize; this was forced inspiration. **

"_Oh shit…"_ you think, _"Oh…shit…!"_

There's something about being Dave Karofsky's little brother that makes you instinctively know what to do, despite the fact that your mind's gone blanker than a etch-a-sketch and your knees are about to give way under you to the hard tile beneath. On pure impulse you dive to the side and slam safely into a bunch of lockers as Karofsky (he's still Karofsky. Even to you, and you're his goddamn brother! Technically you're a Karofsky too. Officially you are. But that would make you Karofsky Jr. to everyone else you suppose. Sucks to be the youngest) rounds the corner and chucks frozen corn syrup all over the girl; the liquid running down her body in thick pools, some of it seemingly stuck between her breasts (wow, surprisingly hot) the rest sliding down her chest, neck, arms, legs until she's completely covered in blue icy sludge and you can see her mouth gaping in complete shock.

"Loser!" Dave yells with a malicious grin, while he grabs you by the arm and drags you away with a surprisingly gentle tug of the arm (it takes a few seconds for you to realize he's proud of you) all the while laughing and giving the other jocks high-fives along the way. You quickly realize that it's the first Friday of the month, meaning it should be Initiation Day for all the freshmen, but you know that that girl was older than you and by more than just a few months, and you're not talking weeks or even a little more than that, you're talking whole fucking years.

But Karofsky just shakes his head, a little annoyed at your confused expression and punches you in the arm.

"So? There's no age limit to dweeb hunting. And besides, _that_ was your initiation" he laughs, giving you a pat on the back that's more like a shove, and it takes all the strength you have left to keep yourself from falling into a bunch of lockers all over again. The tardy bell rings and you know you'll be late for class but Karofsky makes you wait until the halls are nice and empty so that you can saunter into your ninth grade homeroom looking all cool and collected, while in actuality you're about to pee yourself in humiliation.

The plan sounded so simple when Dave laid it out to you. You "pants" the girl (lift up her skirt and get a glance of her underwear, that is) while Dave slushies her right after. Simple. Humiliating. You of course weren't supposed to_ look_ under the skirt, look at her thighs; look at any part of her really. You were supposed to make her feel objectified and like a piece of shit. You were supposed to maybe even smile at her and run away quickly and high-five Karofsky about it later, all the while avoiding getting called to the principal's office for harassment charges.

You weren't of course, supposed to see the cuts there.

You weren't supposed to feel sickened by them and in a different way from Karofsky.

You weren't supposed to know who the cause for them was either.

Man, it sucks to be the youngest.

You pass her on your way to the English hallways; almost run into her as she exits the Girl's washroom on the second floor. She still has a paper towel in her hand, dabbing at spots on her face, eyes, chest (again, surprisingly hot), and everywhere else as you almost collide with her and jump sideways into a row of lockers (what the hell is it with you and these goddamn lockers today?) to avoid touching her. But she sees you and you make eye contact and in that moment you know those weren't hallucinations you were seeing on the smooth tan skin of her thighs; those were seriously real, done-with –a-fucking-sharp-razor, scabbing over and scarring, cuts trailing horizontally from the top of her thigh to the middle area that's just covered by the length of the plaid skirt she's wearing. She looks angry with you, furious even but you're not afraid of her in the way your brother scares you when he's mad, threatening to pound your face in with his fist, but scared in a totally different way.

This time you're not scared for yourself and you're not scared of Karofsky; you're scared for this girl as in you don't want her to hurt herself anymore and you know she needs help despite the way she's glaring at you with those abyss-like chocolate eyes, half-fury, half-fear. She strides away from you swiftly and you watch her go, your heart beating rapidly in your chest. Then you sprint down the hall to another flight of stairs and speed over to the guidance office where Ms. Pillsbury, with her kind eyes and soft voice, asks you what's wrong and you can't open your mouth.

Because you're a Karofsky and you don't do that. You don't tattle and you don't whine and your problems are not other people's problems and other people have their own shit to deal with and it's none of your business. So you back out of there as quickly as you can, but not before she looks up and sees you and asks you to sit down and then you know you have to say something or else.

"Your name's Tyler, right?" she smiles "What can I do for you? Its okay, we can talk I know the first week's always a little tough but that's alright. Dave's little brother, right?"

"Right…and there's nothing wrong miss. Thanks for your time"

* * *

**~Reviews are much appreciated~**


End file.
